


Forbidden Fruit

by dragonflower1



Series: Earthbound [1]
Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Action, Adventure, Angst, Depression, Developing Relationship, Episode: s05e20 Enemy at the Gate, Forced Orgasm, Gift of Life, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post Episode: s05e20 Enemy at the Gate, Romance, Suicidal Thoughts, Wraith, Wraith Feeding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-23
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-03-18 01:58:35
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,138
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3551801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dragonflower1/pseuds/dragonflower1
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Trapped on the superhive, a Warrior on the wrong side of the uprising hatches a desperate plot that flies in the face of Wraith laws and conventions in order to save himself and the one who means more to him than life, itself.</p>
<p> <br/>AN:  Although this story is set in my Planetfall universe, it is canon compliant with the show as it pertains to events leading up to the final battle, and the way the battle itself unfolds in 'Enemy at the Gate,' and can be read as a stand-alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Desperate Times

The low thrum of the Hive ship's engines changed pitch almost as soon as it maneuvered into position in the shadow of Earth's only moon, as power was shunted to the systems most in need of repairs. Between the damage it had sustained during its battle with the Earth ship, Daedalus, and the condition of its outer skin, flayed raw after hurtling through hyperspace at unheard of speeds thanks to its ZPM-enhanced systems, the ship had been pushed to the limits of its endurance. Like all Wraith vessels, this one still required time to recover from the ravages of interstellar travel in spite of the heavily-modified Ancient technology which provided almost boundless energy to draw from. So while its hull regenerated and integration with the alien power source it had been forcibly bonded to was completed, it crouched, as patient and forbidding as the creatures it carried, awaiting the command to begin the assault on the unsuspecting planet below. 

Meanwhile, within the Hive itself, a thrill of barely-contained excitement rippled through the collective telepathic awareness of the thousand or so Wraith who called it home, driven by the breathtaking realization that they had finally succeeded where all others had failed. For some unknown reason, fortune had smiled upon them and favored them with not only the highly-coveted coordinates of Earth, itself, but also a ship capable of taking them there in less time than they'd ever dreamed possible. They were the triumphant conquerors of the Milky Way; the first ones to reach the bright azure-and-emerald jewel of a planet all Wraith had been seeking since first learning of its existence five years earlier – and it was as ripe and ready for the taking as they had been led to believe.

With its rich, almost unbelievable, promise of humanity counted in the _billions_ almost within their grasp, the usual swell of elation which preceded a culling was magnified a hundredfold, inciting the already-volatile crew that prowled its corridors to random displays of violence usually reserved for Wraith from rival hives - and human prey. After the recent uprising and the ensuing struggle for the ship which had followed, it was no surprise that the Warriors were agitated. Almost half their number were either dead or imprisoned for choosing to side with the old Commander and protecting him until he could make his escape, and with no way of knowing for certain if all those loyal to him had been discovered among the rank-and-file, mistrust ran almost as deep as the eagerness that burned through their veins like wildfire. 

Golden cat's eyes glowing faintly in the ever-present gloom that pervaded the Hive, a lone Wraith made his way down an empty, door-lined corridor, his calf-length coat swirling around his legs as he moved silently and swiftly toward his destination. Not that stealth was usually required in the midst of a Hive readying itself for battle – or invasion – or in this case, both, but he had been reduced by adverse circumstances to skulking like an intruder in the shadows of a ship he'd served on with pride for many centuries. Fortunately, between the dissonant cacophony of the alarm reverberating off the spongy, organic walls, and the chaos of Warriors running this way and that as they scrambled to their assigned stations, no one noticed a solitary figure veering off the beaten path. 

As he traversed the winding hallways, he realized for the first time that the claxon which echoed throughout the ship, calling all fighters to their Darts, was fainter here – less of an impossible-to-ignore demand and more of a whispered suggestion. And why would it need to be more – especially in this sector of the ship? The cells on this level were labs occupied by Scientists, Researchers – Thinkers. Historically, this caste was not expected to lift a finger. The job of defending their home fell to others - to ones such as him. 

He was a Warrior, bred to protect. Even now, he struggled against the instinctive desire to sprint to the Dart bay, only the urgency of his self-appointed mission keeping him on-course. Otherwise he'd already have taken to his craft so he could fulfill his function – to fight, to defend - to die, if necessary, for Hive and Brethren. 

If it were up to him, _all_ Wraith, whether warrior or scholar, would be trained to take up arms in defense of the Hive, and he was convinced that the outcome of the mutiny would have been much different if more than a third of the crew hadn't sat out the fight. But that was precisely what had happened, and he could almost guarantee, based on their lack of involvement when the true Commander of the Hive had been toppled, that other than a few of them looking up or exchanging concerned glances, not one of them had stirred when this new alarm had begun to sound, either. The disparity angered him, as it always had, although that didn't stop him from snorting with grim amusement at the ironic reminder of the patent inequality Wraith society's caste system was built on, so perfectly illustrated by the muted signal. Far be it for the beautiful minds of the scientists and researchers to be disturbed from their profound thoughts by the intrusive call to action that others had no choice but to answer. 

The creature paused in the shadows across from the door he sought, brushing long, snow-white dreadlocks back over his armor-clad shoulder as he glanced nervously up and down the hall to make sure it was empty. At the moment, there was only one beautiful mind he cared to disturb, and this might be his last, best chance to do it. 

Ascertaining that the coast was clear, he crossed to the lab door which drew back at his wordless command when he approached, then whooshed shut behind him as he stepped inside. With guarded thoughts and silent feet he stalked as soundlessly as a predatory cat toward the unsuspecting figure bent studiously over an Ancient artifact and transcribing notes onto a tablet at the far end of the room. 

Tall and spare, with straight, steel-grey hair hanging halfway down his back in a soft, loose ponytail, the erstwhile prey suddenly tensed as he caught the hunter's scent, half-turning just as powerful arms enfolded him from behind.

The tall Wraith stiffened.

“Are you insane?” he hissed as he plucked at the warrior's hands splayed possessively across his abdomen. “He will smell you on me, for sure.”

The warrior chuckled softly as he loosened his hold enough for the distraught archaeologist to turn in the circle of his arms, his smile fading as furious, copper-colored eyes searched his face, flashing dangerously.

“He has already warned you that the next time you came near me would be your last.”

“That's only because he knows you desire me as much as I do you,” the shorter, stockier male replied warmly, pulling his willowy companion to him as he'd dreamed of doing for so long. “ _You_ do not wish me gone, and the only power he has over you is the mark you bear.”

“Yes,” the scientist grudgingly agreed, his anger dissipating with a wistful sigh as he settled his hands tentatively on the other's biceps. Even through the Wraithskin coat he could feel their sinewy strength, and he wondered how he was supposed to maintain his distance and resist temptation, when it insisted on looking for him. “His mark – and our laws. He would be within his rights to slaughter you where you stand for simply daring to embrace me, and beating me to within an inch of my life for letting you.” 

A shadow of distress flickered across the tall one's handsome features before he shut it behind an impassive mask, and his russet gaze shifted to focus on his pale, blue-tinged hand where it gripped the warrior's arm like a lifeline. “In fact, it required... more from me than I care to relate, to keep him from killing you the last time you trespassed.”

“What!” the fighter exclaimed, reaching to cup the other's clean-shaven chin between a gentle thumb and forefinger, while his anger ratcheted closer to the killing edge. “Look at me,” he murmured softly as he tried to get the reluctant archaeologist to face him. “Leo,” he finally purred, resorting to the pet name he'd bestowed on his tall friend long ago. As he'd hoped, the shock of hearing it spoken aloud brought the other's wide, surprised eyes back to his. “Why didn't you tell me?”

“What good would it have done, _Marcus_?” Leo snarled, emphasizing his private name for the warrior with acerbic sharpness. “If you'd known, you would have challenged him. After all I'd already endured to save your life, I didn't want to risk you throwing it away in a fit of rage.”

It was Marcus' turn to sigh as he tenderly trailed his fingers down his companion's prominent cheekbone. The scientist's fierce expression seemed so out of place on his delicate features, but the fighter knew that for all his deceptive fragility, Leo was stronger and braver than many who claimed to be seasoned veterans. That he would face down the wrath of one as formidable as the Wraith who had claimed him for the sake of keeping Marcus alive, touched the warrior so deeply he could scarcely breathe for the emotions that clogged his throat. 

“Don't you know yet that you're worth it?” he whispered intimately as he brushed his thumb across Leo's soft, full lips. 

The tall Wraith's mouth quirked into a smile at once skeptical and alluring as the tip of his grey tongue flicked out to touch the pad of Marcus' thumb. Eager to take him up on his unspoken invitation, the warrior leaned in to taste Leo's forbidden lips when the Hive lurched as the engines sluggishly began the massive job of propelling the behemoth forward from a dead stop, making it pitch and yaw before inertial dampeners compensated. The pair broke apart as they attempted to keep their feet on the rolling deck, Leo instinctively grabbing the tablet as it tipped off the bench and carefully setting it farther back from the edge.

The warrior snarled, desperately trying to regain his composure. The scientist was too damn distracting for his own good. “We have to go,” he growled as he wrapped a powerful hand around the other's upper arm and tugged him toward the door. The ship was moving from its hiding place behind the moon and heading toward Earth. That meant the attack was imminent. It was now or never.

“Wait,” Leo snapped angrily, shaking off Marcus' grip with a snarl of his own. “Where exactly are we going?”

“We're getting out of here,” the fighter murmured urgently as he tried to take the other's arm again. “Time is of the essence. We need to do it now – before either one of us is missed.”

Leo resisted a second time, bringing them both up short. He grabbed Marcus' shoulder and swung him around to face him. “What are you talking about?” he asked, alarm rolling off him in waves. “You don't mean to desert?”

The warrior raised desperate eyes to Leo's face, his gaze traveling over the scientist's pinched, anxious features like he was trying to commit them to memory. “I do,” he affirmed, to the taller one's shocked gasp. “Ever since the mutiny, those who remained loyal to the Commander have been viewed with suspicion and distrust. The only reason the ones who were captured have been allowed to live these few extra days is so they can be used as cannon fodder against Earth's defenses. Even now they are making a run at the Ancient weapons platform on the surface from which they are not expected to return, giving them the opportunity for an honorable death. The ones who survive will not be so fortunate. Once the planet is secured, those not killed in battle will be exterminated. While I have so far escaped detection, I will eventually be found out, and when I am, it won't matter whether my death is honorable or ignominious; my life will be forfeit, either way.”

Marcus reached out again and gently took the archaeologist's hand, his gaze never wavering from Leo's face. “I want you to come with me,” he whispered passionately. “There is nothing for you here but pain and suffering.”

“... and a mate,” Leo rasped despondently, while trying to douse the tiny spark of hope the warrior had ignited in his breast. 

“A mate who raped your body and your mind to make you his,” Marcus spat bitterly, regretting the bluntness of his words when the scientist flinched. Unfortunately, they didn't have the luxury time to dance around the truth. “A mate who stepped in and stole you from me the moment he laid eyes on you, and there was nothing I could do but let him, because of his age and rank.”

“Marcus... please,” Leo murmured, his heart breaking yet again at the harsh reminder of the chasm that had divided them a century earlier. “Don't blame yourself. I know you fought for me; that you pushed it as far as you dared without an outright challenge. I did as well, with tooth and claw - but in the end there was nothing either of us could have done. He is Third in Command, after all. He has always had the force of law behind him, and like it or not, I am his.”

“The 'law' may say you belong to him, but in truth, you owe no allegiance to one who mistreats you and delights in your misery the way he does.” the warrior challenged. He needed to convince his companion soon, or they would miss their window of opportunity. “We are in a new galaxy. In honor of the Commander, and the progressive ideals he tried to introduce to Wraith who couldn't see beyond their own feeding hands, let's follow his example and create some new rules that make sense.”

“Why are you doing this?” Leo cried desperately, lashing out as the emotional scars he'd thought he'd buried long ago were ripped open again. “Why are you dragging this up again? I am trapped. Why can't you just accept that? You should have let me go and moved on years ago.”

“How can you say that?” Marcus snarled, visibly taken aback. “You are... my life. I can't just let you go because it isn't convenient.” His golden eyes narrowed, even as an icy tendril of fear uncurled at the base of his spine. He couldn't lose this glorious creature now, not when he was on the brink of emancipating them both. “Have your feelings changed?”

Leo's breath hitched at the broken look the warrior shot him, and he reached to brush Marcus' cheek with gentle fingertips, instinctively comforting him. It would be so easy to lie. The scientist had become quite good at it over the past hundred years, hiding injury and abuse the likes of which even a Genii soldier would have cringed at, and dark periods of depression that sometimes threatened to swallow him whole. With a few simple words he could push Marcus away for good, and maybe even into the arms of another. Then Leo could go down for the last time with a clear conscience, knowing that at least one of them had found some happiness. 

But he couldn't do it. Of course he cared about the warrior - far too much to hurt him to the degree that would be required to drive him away, but he also needed him just to continue existing. Wrestling with the despair that engulfed him far too often, there were times when the thought of how devastated the fighter would be if Leo sought his own demise was the only reason he didn't. It was unfair of him to bind Marcus to him, he knew that, but he needed his fierce warrior – needed his protective, comforting presence, even if it was only at a distance. So like the coward he was, he told Marcus the truth. “No. My feelings for you will never change, beautiful one. You were the mate I would have chosen, given the chance – and you still are.”

The warrior released a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. “Then come with me,” he murmured, entwining his fingers with Leo's, then bringing the back of the scientist's hand to his lips so he could bestow a kiss on the pale blue skin. “Neither one of us has anything to lose by abandoning this abomination of a Hive, and everything to gain.”

Leo compressed his lips into a thin line as he considered Marcus' offer, although, in truth, there wasn't much to weigh. The warrior had no choice but to leave whether Leo went with him or not, and the scientist already knew he wouldn't last long without him. 

“Alright,” he replied with a nod, the word scarcely spoken before Marcus tightened his grip on Leo's hand and pulled him out of the lab with a triumphant snarl. 

Traveling with a speed and silence borne of desperation, the pair reached the Dart Bay in short order, only to be thwarted at the very threshold of the cavernous hangar by a knot of Drones awaiting their turn to board a transport vessel bound for the planet's surface. As if that wasn't bad enough, Marcus could see the nose of his craft through the archway, diagonally across from their hiding place, so tantalizingly close and yet so impossibly far he could have roared with frustration. Swallowing a growl, he schooled himself to patience. At least the line of warriors was moving at a steady pace. That was something. 

As they waited behind the corner for the last of the foot soldiers to file out, Marcus felt the gentle, familiar nudge of a mind he hadn't had the pleasure of embracing in almost a century. With a surge of joy he had no hope of subduing, the warrior glanced over his shoulder, his expression inquisitive and open as he silently bid the scientist welcome.

 _'Marcus,'_ Leo whispered across the telepathic link, his feelings for his companion evident in the warm undercurrent of affection that flowed with his words, regardless of his trepidation. _'Is this wise? What happens when it is discovered we are gone, and they try to bring us back?'_

A brief, unguarded smile lit Marcus' face as he boldly slid his arm around his slender partner's waist and brought him out into the gallery, so recently-deserted that the footfall of the last soldier to board the transport still echoed in the hangar. _'I don't think it will be too much of a problem,'_ he responded with as much reassurance as he could muster, as they quickly and quietly made their way to the warrior's Fighter. _'Earth is a big planet, and it teems with life. They'll have to find us first.'_


	2. Desperate Measures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A last-minute change in plans brings unwanted attention to Leo and Marcus' escape.

Just as Leo and Marcus reached the warrior's craft, the faint sound of approaching Drones could be heard echoing off the Dart Bay's cavernous walls. Even in the few seconds it took Marcus to telepathically disengage the forcefield surrounding the cockpit and bring the engines on-line, the tramp of marching feet grew ominously louder, and he instinctively tightened his grasp on his partner's waist as he glanced nervously around the hangar.

 _'Wait here,'_ he murmured to Leo mind-to-mind, luxuriating in the newly re-established connection. The scientist nodded curtly when they came to a halt by the Fighter, the anxiety behind his copper gaze as evident to the warrior as the unease that trickled across their mental link. Grazing his fingers reassuringly down the archaeologist's smooth, blue-tinged cheek, Marcus left his partner by the nose of the craft then started his cursory physical inspection of the ship. Rushed or not, he needed to make sure all was in order before he ferried his precious cargo to the surface.

Marcus had just completed his check of the aft section when the larger engines of a transport vessel roared to life a few levels down, startling a surprised growl from his lips. They were suddenly out of time. Concerned that the ship would rise soon to meet the oncoming troops, exposing him and his decidedly non-military companion to the unhealthy scrutiny of an entire platoon of battle-ready foot soldiers, Marcus weighed whether they had time to actually board the Fighter, or if they were going to have to lay low somewhere out-of-sight until this group left, as well. He quickly discovered that wasn't an option as he scanned the Bay. Other than the small ships lining the walls that curved away from them in either direction, there was no place to hide in the sparse, utilitarian space. 

He certainly didn't want to be caught when they were within spitting distance of making good their escape, especially not after they'd successfully navigated all the way from the lab to the Bay undetected. It was time to think on his feet. 

“Get in,” the warrior growled through gritted teeth, hoping the whine of the Dart's engine didn't attract too much unwanted attention as it rose in pitch. Thankfully, Warriors were starting to appear on other levels of the hangar, too focused on boarding their own Fighters to notice the incongruous pair, and Marcus let slip a cautious sigh of relief. As long as no one observed the two of them getting into the Dart together and questioned their odd behavior, he and Leo would just be another ship exiting the Hive. 

He was surprised when the scientist hung back. 

“There isn't room for us both in the cockpit,” Leo observed with a snarl. 

“I know,” Marcus whispered urgently, his apprehension spiking in spite of his efforts to remain calm. His desperate and hastily-conceived scheme to desert his Hive and take another Wraith's mate with him had already put him so far beyond the limits of his comfort zone; he didn't have much left keep his anxiety under wraps. Now that his concentration had slipped, his main concern was that no one pick up on it. They needed to move quickly. “There's a platoon of Drones on their way, I won't have time to pick you up in the culling beam as I'd originally planned.”

The tall Wraith slanted a dubious glance in his partner's direction as if rethinking his decision to join the Warrior on this risky undertaking.

 _'Leo. Please,'_ Marcus snarled across their bond, his dire tone and the rising distress which accompanied it compelling a reluctant nod of acquiescence from the archaeologist.

Compressing his lips in a thin line, Leo clambered over the side and into the narrow cockpit, folding his long legs up in front of him as he slid as far forward as he could in the unfamiliar seat. An instant later he felt Marcus climb in, the warrior's thighs squeezing the crest of his hips as he settled behind him and pulled him back to rest on a broad, warm chest. Under almost any other circumstances, Leo would have reveled in the sensation of Marcus' strong body pressed so suggestively against his after so long, but at the moment they were wedged in a little too tightly for it to be anything other than uncomfortable. 

“Ready, love?” Marcus murmured as he reached around the scientist to take hold of the controls. The warrior's warm breath ghosted across Leo's cheek and the back of his neck, sending a voluptuous shudder of sensation through the silver-haired Wraith, and he amended his initial assessment of the situation to one slightly more erotically-charged than he'd first thought. 

Marcus did his best to suppress a grin as he read the data streaming down the reformed forcefield, the scent of Leo's arousal potent and intoxicating in the enclosed space. The blatantly-sexual position they found themselves in wasn't lost on the warrior either, and it was all Marcus could do to keep from grinding against the Wraith he straddled so provocatively, and burying his face in Leo's neck to drown in his scent and explore the strong column of his pale-blue neck with lips and tongue and teeth. Pulling himself together by sheer force-of-will and a silent promise to himself to jump the scientist the minute they landed, Marcus revved the Dart's engines and lifted off from the ledge to follow the growing number of Fighters heading toward the Dart Bay doors – and Earth. 

0*0*0*0

Pushing down a surge of soaring exhilaration, Haemon scanned the waterfall of data cascading down the far side of the Commander's Ready Room, watching while the mass of Darts awaiting the order to launch another attack on the planet swarmed to the starboard of the Hive. As the ship's Third-in-Command – _Second_ , he reminded himself, the faintest hint of smug satisfaction on his brooding, sensual features - it had fallen to him to move the invasion forward in the new Commander's absence, and he did so with pleasure. It would just be one more mark in the towering, powerfully-built Wraith's favor, to go along with his suggestion of deploying the condemned in the leading edge of their first offensive. Their resounding success at quickly and efficiently destroying Earth's only real defensive weapon had moved the campaign forward with such unexpected ease, he could already imagine the recognition he was bound to receive. 

Alone in the private chamber, Haemon allowed himself a moment to gloat over his achievement, letting down his guard enough to smirk openly. With the old Commander supplanted by his ambitious Second in a stunning coup, Haemon had moved up the ladder as well, in a promotion he'd coveted for far too long. Now that he was a step closer to the seat of power, he planned on doing all he could to consolidate his position, and if that meant upstaging the newly-risen Commander, then all the better. 

If their new leader wanted to waste this precious opportunity prowling the ship's corridors like a Drone, trying to track down the intruders that had been detected on the internal sensors, that was his folly. Once Earth was secured, and the actions and decisions of those on the Command deck weighed and considered, the one who had actually distinguished himself in battle would be the one suitably-honored. As long as Haemon steered clear of the other's treachery once the Commander realized his fatal misstep at such a critical juncture, there was a very real possibility that both the Hive – and the guardianship of Earth, could fall to him.

The Wraith's smirk broadened into a wolfish grin. If such a dream became reality, he knew just what his first Command decision would be. He would have that inconvenient warrior brought before him – the one who had been standing in the way of his happiness for a century – and he would feed upon him slowly, and drain him of life in the most excruciatingly-painful way imaginable. Maybe with the fighter out of the way for good, his reluctant partner would finally stop looking down his nose at him and give in to the inevitable. 

His smile faded, to be replaced with a frustrated sneer as he laid his hand on the computer's interface, changing the range of the schematics with a thought. If only Leo was as easy to control, Haemon mused darkly. After almost a century of contention, he still hadn't managed to bring the scientist to heel, and he wondered how he'd ended up with a mate so difficult to subdue. 

When he'd first clapped eyes on the blue-skinned Wraith during a routine inspection of the archaeological dig the scientist had been working on, Haemon had been a lost cause. The other's delicate beauty and retiring nature had left him breathless with need, his thoughts consumed by the desire to bed him – to violate the slender male again and again until he bent him to his will and mastered him completely. The fact that the unwitting object of his lust had been with a guard at the time, and that they were clearly together, had been of little consequence to him. 

Haemon had rank and age the warrior had no hope of matching, and he had assumed, from the scientist's outward appearance and demeanor, that any resistance he might have to the arrangement would be easily overcome. Without hesitation he had swept in, and with the weight of Wraith laws behind him, laid claim to Leo that very day. What Haemon hadn't counted on was the intensity of the bond which had already existed between his new mate and the guard, or the core of surprising strength the copper-eyed scientist had kept hidden beneath his willowy grace and quiet, diffident personality. 

The archaeologist had proven to be an unexpectedly-formidable contender right from the start, his delicious anger and earnest struggles adding spice to their first coupling and inflaming Haemon beyond reason. Delirious and lost in mating rut, he'd scarcely noticed that the scientist never surrendered as he'd forcibly penetrated Leo's body and mind, creating the bond the other had fought in vain to prevent. 

It was an oversight Haemon regretted to this very day, as with a spirit as indomitable as his own, the archaeologist defied him at every turn - in spite of the repeated 'corrections' Haemon liberally doled out. Bloodied, bowed, but unbroken, the scientist strove to break away from their inescapable bond even in the midst of their most intimate moments, denying Haemon the gratification he coveted above all else. It was enough to drive a Wraith to violence – and it had – on many occasions, but regardless of the number of times Haemon raised his hand in anger, or stormed Leo's mental defenses as he'd taken the younger Wraith's strong, supple body, the recently-elevated Second had yet to experience the intense joy of sharing pleasure with him.

That wasn't to say the Haemon hadn't enjoyed himself over the years. Quite the contrary. He had reached his peak repeatedly. How could he not with such a delectable creature as the archaeologist gracing his bed? And he'd brought Leo to his knees often enough, to be sure - although the scientist never submitted willingly – never with the desire and yearning Haemon had seen shining in those exotic, russet-colored eyes every time they'd gazed upon that damned warrior. No. The archaeologist came with a different fire burning within him, cursing Haemon's name as he succumbed to the overwhelming onslaught of hydraulics and friction, the scientist's mind a morass of fury, humiliation, and despair. 

Snarling with impotent rage at Leo's unremitting resistance and the profound ecstasy the scientist denied him, Haemon was taken by surprise when the faint echo of his mate's delight, followed by a surge of lust, brushed against his mind on the normally-silent bond between them. The Second's hands stilled on the interface, his head tilted as though straining to catch the lingering notes of an almost-familiar tune as he tried to process the residual images and sensations that accompanied the burst of sweet emotion – the very first – he'd ever felt from his errant mate. It wasn't until the stream ended abruptly in a startled flash of recognition that he realized every spark of affection that had flowed, however briefly, through their mate-bond, was focused not on him – but... _Marcus._

The warrior had stolen a march on him yet again. 

Haemon's snarl deepened to a growl as his hands fell away from the terminal to clench into tight, white-knuckled fists of rage by his sides. Blinded by the intensity of his anger, he swiftly scanned the communications matrix that hummed throughout the Hive, searching for the one lifesign their bond dictated he should be able to pinpoint with ease. Met with stony silence, he had only to glance at the dull, rainbow-hued screen and the flickering images of Fighters moving toward the planet for disbelieving comprehension to dawn. 

“He wouldn't dare,” the Wraith ground out, although he knew with gut-wrenching certainty even as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the Ready Room, that the warrior had indeed crossed that final line.

“Take over,” he snapped at the just-promoted Third as he swept past on his way to the Dart Bay, all his careful planning to take over the Hive charred to a crisp by the firestorm of wild fury burning in his chest. His century of patient forbearance had officially come to an end with this blatant betrayal. 

The Hunt was on. 

The warrior was going to die, in ways as horrifying and torturous as he could devise – and Leo... Haemon paused by the side of his Fighter, recalling in vivid detail how exquisitely beautiful his reluctant partner was in the throes of agony. An anticipatory smile split his cruel features. If Leo insisted on lavishing his affections elsewhere, Haemon would be more than happy to take his pain instead, and the archaeologist was going to be paying for this indiscretion for a very, very long time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had the majority of this chapter written three weeks ago, right before RL kicked my ass. Now that my higher brain functions are starting to process again, I was able to pick up the thread and finish it. I actually really enjoyed writing Haemon, the villain of the piece. He's so deliciously awful, right down to his name, which is an ancient Greek name meaning 'bloody.' 
> 
> More to come, sooner rather than later, hopefully – although I have two other WIP's to update before I get back to this one again. In the meantime - Enjoy!


	3. The Calm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus and Leo learn that getting off the Hive was only the first challenge.

The Dart cleared the bulk of the Hive without incident or alarm, and some of the tension in Marcus' shoulders abated as he glided toward the Wing of Fighters hovering nearby. Working around Leo's lanky frame more easily than he'd expected for such a tight space, the warrior piloted the vessel with skills honed to near-perfection over the course of millennia, hardly daring to believe that his luck was still holding. In spite of a few close calls, not only had he and the archaeologist avoided discovery all the way from the lab to the Dart Bay, but loading Leo into the cockpit with him had gone unnoticed as well, much to the warrior's relief. 

He was only allowed a brief moment to savor their small victory, though, before they were ordered to move out, and he began weaving his ship through the throng of Darts jockeying for position as they made their way toward Earth. In truth, Marcus had never expected to make it this far. With the odds stacked against him every step of the way since the mutiny, he'd been firmly convinced that he would have been cut down long before now. 

That he had managed to evade capture after the coup had seemed fortuitous enough in its own right. The fact that he'd infiltrated the Research area undetected, convinced Leo to accompany him into exile, and actually made it off the Hive, bordered on the miraculous; but far from reveling in making good their escape, Marcus found himself restless and wary. They might be one step closer to freedom, but they were still light years away, and their recent successes did little to ease his troubled mind. Worst-case scenarios of every way this ill-conceived endeavor could fail crowded the warrior's thoughts, and he couldn't help but wonder how much more time they had before they lost fortune's favor and things went horribly awry. 

He would have certainly meditated on it if anything about this desperate scheme had actually been planned out in advance, to see if he could have gotten a feel for its outcome. Although he was still far from mastering the art of sounding dimensional ley lines, Marcus could almost guarantee that the magnitude of this event would make it a highly-visible focal point in the fabric of his existence, and he was sure that in other dimensions, countless Marcuses and Leos had succeeded and failed in the same attempt for an infinite number of reasons. But with no opportunity to access whatever wisdom his various selves might have to offer, and no way to predict how much longer their run of luck might last, Marcus was left with no other option but to rely on his own intuition. 

Pushing down his anxiety as best he could, the warrior carefully navigated his ship between two other Fighters. As he worked his way closer to the front of the pack, he picked apart his hastily-formulated strategy for what felt like the hundredth time, obsessively looking for weaknesses while simultaneously hoping its bold simplicity might be the key to its success. 

The length-and-breadth of his dubious master plan consisted of overloading one of his secondary engines when they reached Earth's atmosphere, and informing the Wing Leader that he was in trouble. While in actuality the damage would affect neither the responsiveness nor the maneuverability of his craft by much, the ensuing smoke trail would make it appear as though his Fighter was in distress, and he'd be 'forced' to land. He and Leo would then abandon the Dart once they were on the ground, and make their way across land to one of the great cities which dotted the globe, so they could hide and hunt among the vast herds of humanity that roamed the planet. 

At least that was what Marcus envisioned. First they needed to get there - and _he_ needed some sort of distraction to retain what little sanity he still possessed.

Determined to subdue the doubts that plagued him, he took the opportunity to pull the armful of aroused, beguiling archaeologist that shared the crowded cockpit with him back against his chest, and concentrated on nuzzling the nape of Leo's neck left provocatively exposed by his ponytail. He startled a gasp and a pleasured shudder from his partner that Marcus could feel vibrating through the scientist's body, and a fresh wave of lust overpowered his scent receptors once again with its alluring aroma. With a breathless chuckle of satisfaction, the warrior leaned in and planted a tender kiss on that same expanse of skin, trying to keep an eye on the ship's controls while rapidly losing the battle with his libido.

His defeat was assured when Leo swept his bound hair over his opposite shoulder to reveal the spinal ridge of delicate bone spurs usually kept modestly hidden, then bent his neck to the side and offered himself in the most graceful show of submission the warrior had ever witnessed. Even after a century apart, it seemed the archaeologist remembered just where Marcus' buttons were, and how to press them. Unaware of the groan that escaped his lips, the warrior closed the distance a heartbeat later, unable to resist trailing lingering kisses down the row of small, smooth nodules that ran down the back of his lover's neck. 

Marcus traced over the sensitive skin around each one with the tip of his dark grey tongue, lost in the delicious sounds of Leo's labored breaths growing ragged with desire, when the scientist's mind brushed like a soft caress against his own. Eager to renew the precious bond between them, the warrior reached for his partner without hesitation and opened himself to the scientist's telepathic embrace. Welcoming the deluge of desire and affection that washed over him in waves, he entwined his consciousness with Leo's, adding to the flood of emotion and sensation that flowed between them until it was difficult to tell where he ended and the archaeologist began. 

Clinging to the present moment by the tips of his claws, Marcus peered over Leo's shoulder at the instrument panel and overhead array. He gave both a cursory glance to make sure all was well, then let his fingertips glide suggestively down the front of the scientist's jacket. He could smell as well as feel his lover's eagerness for his touch as his hand slid closer to the archaeologist's bulging crotch, but just before he reached his destination Leo cried out in sudden fear. A surge of terror followed, dousing the ardor they shared, and in the next instant Marcus was violently thrust back into his own head.

Disoriented by the forceful ejection, the warrior's mental connection with his ship was momentarily destabilized, and the Dart bobbled precariously close to another Fighter. Abruptly finding himself scrabbling on two fronts, Marcus instinctively hung onto Leo with one hand while he tightened his grip on the manual controls of the ship with the other. He managed to regain command of his vessel with ease, but when he reached for his lover's mind once again, he made a disturbing discovery. Where Leo had been an open book a moment before, the Wraith's defenses were now a solid, impenetrable wall. Worse yet, the scientist had started to tremble in his arms. 

Something was terribly, terribly wrong. 

Alarmed now, and still unable to access the archaeologist's thoughts in spite of repeated attempts and as many refusals, Marcus frantically resorted to verbal communication.

“What is it, love?” He loosened his hold on the scientist and reached for Leo's clean-shaven chin, gently turning the other Wraith's head so Marcus could catch his eye.

The archaeologist swallowed hard against the fear-soaked adrenaline that closed his throat to anything louder than a terrified whisper. Mind-to-mind would have been far easier than trying to force words past his numb lips, but Leo didn't dare let his guard down again. 

“Marcus, he knows we're together,” he hissed, when he trusted his voice enough to speak. “He'll kill you for sure, this time.”

The warrior's eyes narrowed in consternation as a trickle of unease uncurled in his belly. “What are you talking about?”

Leo looked away, miserable. “When you and I bonded with each other just now, I opened myself to you completely.”

“Of course you did,” Marcus crooned as he stroked the scientist's cheek reassuringly. “As I did with you. That was the point.” He was confused now, and a little scared. Now that Leo had had the opportunity to taste his thoughts and feelings again after all this time, was it possible the archaeologist was regretting his decision to take up with him again? Without the the ability to tap into their telepathic link, he had no way to discern the source of the other Wraith's agitation with any confidence. 

Leo's copper-tinged eyes were fierce and desperate when he met Marcus' gaze. “You don't understand. When I let you in, I dropped all my barriers – including the ones that usually keep Haemon out of my head. I didn't realize it until I felt him reach for me across the Mate bond. I sensed his confusion – and his rage, right before I brought up my defenses again.”

“Oh.” Marcus' fingers stilled on the scientist's cheek as the implications of Leo's assertion sank in. The very reason he'd seduced Leo into coming with him was so the scientist could escape a mate he despised, so he and Marcus could finally be together. But if that abomination of a Wraith who'd stolen his happiness a century ago could track them every time they strove for true intimacy through a bond forged with the archaeologist against his will, hiding among Earth's population might not be possible after all. 

It was all Marcus could do not to howl in dismay. Here he'd thought he was making it better for Leo, but instead, there was a good chance his rash actions might have made things infinitely worse for the scientist who still quivered in his lap – and understandably so. Haemon was cruel and vindictive, and the warrior was certain that when the Third finally caught up with them, the iratus-hatched bastard planned on making the archaeologist's life a living hell.

But maybe there was still a chance to make it right. They weren't far from the Hive. If Marcus turned the ship around and took them back, Leo could claim he'd been abducted – kidnapped – and that he'd somehow overpowered the warrior so he could return to his rightful mate. It was a longshot, but if Haemon could be persuaded that it was the truth, instead of venting his rage on Leo, it might be enough to focus all his anger and desire for retribution on Marcus. Either way, the warrior's death was assured – and he knew that at Haemon's hands it would be a long, drawn-out, horrific way to go - but if the Third believed Leo's story, Marcus' sacrifice would be worth it if he could greet oblivion knowing the archaeologist was safe. 

Heaving a defeated sigh, Marcus glanced up at the overhead display as he prepared to peel away from the swarm and head back, when something primitive and righteous tore itself loose inside him. A fierce possessiveness seized him, clawing its way to the surface in a sudden and unexpected surge of defiant fury. It swept through him like wildfire as it blazed to life, and all his uncertainty melted in its heat. It had taken Marcus over three thousand years before he'd found the one he wanted as his mate, only to have him literally wrenched from his grasp. Now that he had Leo in his arms again after waiting nearly a century for a second chance, he wasn't about to let anyone take the scientist away from him again, least of all a Wraith as unworthy as Haemon. Giving up was not an option. 

With grim determination and an odd sense of elation, Marcus' hand tightened on the controls, but instead of returning to the Hive, he accelerated, guiding the Dart past several more ships as he drew closer to the front. 

He was done living in fear of the power Haemon wielded like a club, and his threats, spoken and implied. He was done standing by and doing nothing while the love of his life was crushed under the heel of his 'lawful' mate, helplessly watching as the light in Leo's eyes faded a little more each day, along with his dwindling hope. 

If they weren't going to be able to shake Haemon even on Earth, then so be it. Marcus was done waiting. As soon as they reached the planet, he was claiming Leo as his own, and if the Hive's Third wanted to come after them for it, the warrior would be ready for him. There was no turning back.

Marcus lifted his hand to his partner's face again and tenderly trailed the backs of his fingers down the plane of the scientist's cheek, pained by the dejection he saw written in the slump of the archaeologist's shoulders. He knew Leo blamed himself for this - for everything – even though none of it was his fault. Circumstances beyond their control had forced them down twisted, nightmarish paths neither one would have chosen, but those same influences had also guided their steps and brought them back to each other. In the end, that was all that really mattered. They were together now, and as a bonded pair they would face down whatever challenges stood in their way, as they had both wanted all along. 

“Hey,” he whispered gently, when the scientist turned his head enough to offer his profile but refused to meet his eyes. “Look at me.” 

Leo reluctantly glanced up, his eyes widening when they beheld the glittering gaze of a Wraith warrior riding dangerously close to the killing edge. The ferocity of Marcus' golden glare softened slightly in response to his obvious surprise, but the determination in their depths didn't fade. In fact, it grew stronger as the warrior took in his features, and Leo realized with a start that it was all for him. Marcus wasn't going to give up or retreat. He meant to fight for him. 

The archaeologist's breath hitched as gratitude and relief as sharp as a knife sliced through him. It would have been so much easier for Marcus if he'd just made his bid for freedom on his own, but instead he'd come looking for him. Without hesitation, the warrior had voluntarily complicated what might have been such a simple escape on the off-chance Leo would agree to go with him, and then risked everything to get them both safely off the Hive. And the archaeologist, true-to-form, had repaid that unwarranted kindness by bringing the wrath of a very powerful, very angry Wraith Commander down upon their heads. 

Leo berated himself harshly for that slip-up, adding it to his ever-growing pile of blunders. He knew his very presence here endangered them both, and yet the warrior he hadn't been able to acknowledge for decades except in brief, clandestine encounters, had remained steadfast every step of the way. 

Marcus had always loved him far more than he felt he deserved. 

Rendered speechless in the face of his champion's overwhelming devotion, Leo knew better at this point than to reach for the warrior's mind for fear of inviting Haemon's unwelcome attention again. Yet his heart was full, and more than anything the archaeologist wished to let his lover know how much his constancy meant to him. Like a shy, woodland creature, ever-watchful for the first sign of the Hunter, Leo cautiously lowered the outer wall of his defenses and allowed all the emotions he was powerless to convey show in his eyes, letting them say what he could not. 

The merest hint of a tender smile tugged at the corner of the warrior's mouth, although it didn't make his expression any less terrifying. “I will not let Haemon take you from me.”

Leo searched his lover's face, and the conviction he found there, and he knew without a shadow of a doubt that Marcus would do everything within his power to keep that promise, even if it cost him his life. He nodded. “I believe you,” he managed to choke out, his voice raw. 

Marcus solemnly returned the nod, then pulled the scientist back against his broad chest in a warm embrace. As Leo settled himself as comfortably as he could in the cramped space, the warrior adjusted their course and speed. He inched the ship forward once again until he finally reached the leading edge of the swarm, then turned his attention to the Dart's instrument panel and heads-up display. 

What he found there pleased him.

From their relative position to the outer limits of Earth's atmosphere, short-range sensors detected no sign of enemy ships. It was more than Marcus could have hoped for, although he was puzzled by the readings. The earlier wave of Darts which had taken out the Ancient weapons platform must have also destroyed or disabled all the Earth Fighters capable of space flight, and he found it odd that the humans of this world would fail so grievously to protect a home so rich in life, resources, and technology. 

He snorted with derision. For all that the New Lanteans had always been such formidable foes in Pegasus, it hadn't taken much to leave their planet's first and second lines of defense in tatters. 

Whatever the reason for Earth's short-comings, their lack of foresight and planning had possibly just handed Marcus the exit strategy he so desperately needed, and he paused to consider the implications of this unexpected boon. Even though he was well-aware that the first warriors into the fray always sustained the highest casualties, with the decided lack of opposition, it was a calculated risk that might be well worth taking. His primary concern was getting them both to the ground safely, but he also wanted to get there as quickly as possible. Marcus knew that the longer he and Leo were in the air, the more likely they were to be targeted and the less likely they'd be to ever make planetfall. Making a quick break from the front of the pack and driving straight down seemed like it might be their best option.

Changing the parameters of his sensor array from short- to long-range with a thought, the warrior began picking up faint echoes of several different types of aircraft running aerial sweeps in the stratosphere – waiting for them. _So Earth's air forces aren't tapped out, after all,_ he ruminated with a sigh as he re-assessed the situation. Although the humans' fallback position was well within their planet's atmosphere, from what he could tell, their redrawn line of defense looked as frustratingly well-organized and imposing as he would have expected from the descendants of the Ancients.

In light of the unexpected show of force, Marcus decided they would be better off erring on the side of caution. It meant letting others take the brunt of the confrontation, but he felt no remorse. The warriors in the Darts around him looked to the mutinous usurper as their leader, not the true Commander. As far as he was concerned, the lot of them could perish, but first he was going to make use of the disloyal ones as a phalanx between his Dart and the planes circling hungrily below. 

With a flick of the wrist, Marcus dropped his ship below the formation then initialized his forward thrusters in short bursts to slow his craft. He tried not to wince as he watched all the progress he'd made fall by the wayside when the vessels he had just flown over, under, and around to get by, began to pass him overhead. Although he gave up the lead willingly to afford he and Leo the best possible chance for survival, he couldn't help but feel a twinge of regret. He was a warrior, after all. His natural desire was to cling to the coveted position he'd worked so hard for with tooth and claw. To be among the first to engage the enemy in battle – to revel in the fierce joy of combat – was a great honor, and Marcus hated having to give it up to those less than deserving. Pushing aside his pricked pride with a snarl, he began looking for an opening in the densely packed swarm so he could rejoin the group, but just he spied a way in and was about to engage his aft thrusters to propel the Dart forward again, the Ancient City ship, Atlantis, suddenly materialized out of nowhere almost directly in front of them.

Both Wraith stiffened as adrenaline rocketed through their bodies, instinctively bracing for impact. Leo reared back against Marcus' chest and clutched the warrior's legs in a death grip, claws digging painfully into leather-clad shins, while Marcus threw everything he had into averting the imminent disaster. Time slowed to a crawl as he savagely tried to force the nose of the Dart up, only the deceleration of the ship giving him the precious milliseconds he needed to make the turn before they slammed full-speed into the shimmering forcefield which surrounded the City. Unfortunately, the Fighters just ahead of him weren't so lucky. 

Marcus' fingers ached from gripping the control so tightly as they raced across the surface of the shield. His eyes never left the heads-up display as he shoved the control – and the ship – this way and that, frantically dodging fireballs and debris as the leading edge of the swarm exploded into shrapnel around him. Other Darts followed, their pilots trailing the first ships too closely to save themselves, but vessels farther back with enough time and space to maneuver, were starting to peel off, adding to the confusion. 

Forced to stay low to avoid the frantic crush of swooping Fighters desperately trying not to crash into each other, the underside of the Dart had begun to glow by the time Marcus was finally able to pull them up and away from the City. The warrior took them a little way from the Ancient's ship then banked the Dart, coming around in an arc just in time to see Atlantis square off with the Hive. 

As the two ships began exchanging fire, Marcus slipped his arm gratefully around the archaeologist, jubilant that they were still alive and out of the conflict. Leo sagged against him, huffing a shaky sigh of relief, and the warrior chuckled as the tension singing through his body melted away with the last traces of adrenaline. 

It looked like they were going to make it after all – or so he thought. No sooner had the possibility flickered through his mind when a chunk of scorched debris from one of the destroyed vessels suddenly slammed into the Dart's starboard wingtip, shearing off the secondary engine and sending the Fighter spiraling toward the atmosphere.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although I only started this chapter on August 13, the idea has been rolling around in my head for literally months. Imagine my surprise when I actually sat down to write it and couldn't find my way in. After several false starts, I finally managed, and from there it flowed rather quickly. I had originally intended to get much farther into the plot in this chapter than I did, but the boys had other plans. As it turned out, it gave me a nice opportunity to explore the nature of the telepathic bond and Marcus and Leo's feelings for each other, as well as Marcus' mindset as a Wraith warrior. 
> 
> The research I did while writing this chapter included how high fighter jets can fly, plane engines in general, the layers of Earth's atmosphere, and where the heck the space battle between Atlantis and the Superhive took place. I found a single picture on Gate World that showed the two ships hovering over a partial landmass and what looked like a string of islands. After poring over maps of the world and the Pacific Ocean, I FINALLY figured it out. It's New Guinea!
> 
> My apologies for taking so long to get this chapter up, but hopefully now that I'm getting back in the swing of things, I'll be able to build up a little momentum again. :)


	4. The Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As the pivotal battle for Earth rages between Atlantis and the Superhive, Marcus and Leo fight for their lives as they try to make planetfall.

As the Hive engaged Atlantis in combat, Leo and Marcus fought a desperate life-or-death struggle of their own as the Dart tumbled end-over-end. Battling against the gravitational forces that slammed them first into the instrument panel, then back into the seat, chaos reigned as the pair scrabbled for purchase on something – anything – only to be torn loose again by the forces exerted on the tiny vessel. 

The unexpected collision had knocked the floor-mounted manual control out of the warrior's hand, and it thrashed wildly in its Wraithskin boot, barking Marcus' fingers every time he tried to reach it and battering Leo's thighs as he was thrown around the cockpit. Meanwhile, the interior lights flickered erratically as the ship vented plasma from severed lines, the strobe-effect only adding to the confusion by illuminating their crisis in flashes of nightmarish suspended animation. 

Recovering as best he could in the midst of the turmoil, Marcus managed to shift enough before Leo's head rocked back and hit him in the mouth again to let it fracture his collarbone instead. Grunting in pain, he pushed his upper back into his seat and braced himself with his feet, then watched the attitude indicator spin crazily as the ebb-and-flow of G-forces rolled through his body. Just as they pitched forward again and he could bring his arms up, he made a grab for his companion, instinctively seeking to protect them both from further injury. 

As surprised as Leo when he actually caught him, they exchanged identical, wide-eyed glances before he pulled the scientist to his chest. The archaeologist wasted no time in pressing back against him and winding sinewy arms around his thighs, taut with the strain of holding them both in place. It only took a moment for him to settle himself between the warrior's legs and test his hold, then he nodded over his shoulder, indicating he was sufficiently anchored. 

Keeping one arm wrapped securely around the scientist, Marcus seized the manual control with the other, throwing everything he had, both mentally and physically, into regaining mastery over the damaged vessel as it tumbled haphazardly toward the planet. 

Muscles straining, the warrior's knuckles turned white with the effort he expended trying to steady the bucking joystick, while he plunged his mind deep into the ship's programming. The Dart instantly bombarded him with alarms and error messages, and pain lanced through his temples as he sorted through them. 

In the blink of an eye he completed his hasty triage, then with a swiftness borne of adrenaline-fueled survival instinct began repairs by first shutting down the flow of energy to the broken lines. As much as he wanted to stop the sickening revolutions as soon as possible, bringing the ship out its spin was secondary to staunching the rapid loss of plasma. 

They'd be dead in the water if the vessel bled out. 

Making adjustments on the fly, he re-routed power to undamaged pathways until the lights stopped flickering and regained their steady glow, then turned his attention to the Dart's propulsion systems. Without skipping a beat, he feverishly shunted energy through the jury-rigged connections, attempting to restart the starboard primary engine which had flamed out when the wing had been hit. 

From the diagnostics streaming down the opaque visor, he gathered that it had been struck a glancing blow and all but ripped from its moorings when the secondary engine had been torn off. Miraculously, it still registered as operational, although it clung precariously to the exoskeletal remains of the right wing. He only hoped it remained stable – and attached, and that he could relight it in time. Its ignition was vital if he was to gain command of his Fighter before they reached Earth's upper atmosphere. 

Never mind the jets waiting for them in the stratosphere: if the ship entered the atmosphere at the wrong trajectory, they were as good as dead before they even made it through. If they came in at the too steep an angle, the friction of the swiftly-increasing air density against the incoming Dart's hull would generate too much heat, and they would burn up. Too shallow an angle, and they'd skim off the edge of the exosphere like a stone skimming along the surface of a pond; and with the starboard engine threatening to fall off at any moment, Marcus worried they might not get a second chance to try again. 

While the warrior concentrated on wrestling his ship into submission, Leo did his best to keep from being thrown into the bulkhead again. A trickle of black blood leaked down over the archaeologist's lips from one of his nostrils as he dug his claws into the legs of the other's tough, Wraithskin pants and hung on for dear life. His nose, broken during the initial event, was already healing, but he barely noticed either the break or the blood, scarcely daring to breathe lest he distract the Wraith who was desperately scrambling to save their lives. 

As Marcus worked around him, Leo scanned the instrument panel and overhead display from the dubious safety of his lover's arms with wide, copper-tinged eyes and enough knowledge of the readings to unnerve him. They were essentially hurtling toward Earth at far too great a speed, at far too steep an angle, with no starboard engine and no way to bring the Dart out of its spin without it. The thrusters, forward and aft, were still on-line, but until the frenzied, gyroscopic revolutions could be corrected, they just didn't have the ability to control their descent. 

Swallowing hard against his rising panic, he tightened his grip and huddled against Marcus' chest. Unlike the warrior, created to defend the Hive and trained to face death at a moment's notice, Leo was a scientist. Bred to different standards with different expectations of both his value and his lifespan, the archaeologist had very little experience with the kind of danger they suddenly found themselves in, and it terrified him.

Coddled and cosseted like the rest of his Brethren, Leo had spent the majority of his days either poring over artifacts in labs - or planetside on some world or another, carefully sifting through rubble at ancient – and Ancient – sites of interest. He was one of the eternally curious ones, whose only function was to tease bits of information out of a reluctant universe to add to the considerable fund of knowledge the Hive's databases already possessed. Although he was as much of a predator as any Wraith, and had had to claw his way through the ranks of his caste as viciously as any warrior, most of the archaeologist's life had been spent on the sidelines and in the background. He'd always been part of the second wave to visit a planet, only after it had been conquered by those of Marcus' caste, its human population subdued and culled long before he ever set foot on its soil. 

Leo had always had a sneaking suspicion it was one of the reasons Haemon had targeted him in the first place. By virtue of variations in the genetic coding which favored intelligence over strength and differentiated one caste from another, Thinkers were generally a more docile breed than Warriors, their DNA predisposing them to cooperative natures and contemplative pursuits.

In fact, he was certain the Commander had counted on that when he'd dragged him to his bed, unwilling; dismissing his refusals with the expectation that he would give in, and overpowering him without difficulty regardless of his struggles, when he didn't. 

What the Third failed to realize was that prowess on the battlefield and brute force in the bedroom had nothing to do with true strength. Fortitude came in many forms - bravery in a thousand small acts; and in spite of his best efforts, the unassuming archaeologist he'd violated in body and mind was yet as formidable as any Warrior. Bent but not broken, Leo's spirit remained intact. Forged in centuries of silent meditation, hardened by years of disciplined study, and sharpened to a killing edge with the wisdom and understanding only the passage of time could bring, the scientist had proven both his valor and strength repeatedly, standing up to Haemon again and again – then enduring the Commander's wrath for doing so. 

But for all the times he'd been beaten senseless for his audacity, for every one of the countless nights Haemon had choked him to unconsciousness or left him tied in positions where he could scarce draw breath, Leo had never feared the possibility of his own demise as much as he did at this moment. He'd only just cast off the shackles which Wraith laws had forced upon him, and reclaimed his life and his place at Marcus' side after a century apart. He didn't want to die yet - not when they hadn't even begun to taste the sweetness that freedom promised.

He was dragged away from his bitter ruminations when the warrior suddenly let out a whoop of triumph. In that same instant the starboard engine roared to life, and he found himself being drawn back against the other's chest in a quick, fierce embrace before Marcus set about pulling the fighter out of its uncontrolled dive. 

“Fortune still favors us,” the warrior murmured close to Leo's ear as the familiar whine of the starboard engine climbed in pitch. Warm breath ghosted gently over the archaeologist's cheek, followed a heartbeat later by a soft brush of lips. “If our luck holds, we'll be on Earth in no time.”

Just as Leo glanced over his shoulder and met his lover's hopeful expression with a relieved grin, daring to relax a little, the Dart shuddered ominously as the engine cycled up to full speed and the loose mount began to vibrate, banging in an irregular, staccato tattoo against what was left of the wing.

“What's that?” he gasped, whipping his head around to examine the readings on the HUD with round eyes as his heart leapt in his chest. So much for a reprieve. 

"Nothing we can do anything about," Marcus replied brusquely. His lips compressed into a thin, tense line as he began maneuvering the shaking vessel into the correct attitude to enter Earth's atmosphere. "Except hang on and try to make planetfall as soon as possible."

Leo fell silent, and Marcus felt him heave a deep, tremulous sigh. Even without seeing the archaeologist's face or being able to touch his mind through the telepathic connection they couldn't risk accessing, he sensed the other's quiet desperation. Truth be told, the warrior shared it - although there was no reason to reveal that to his already-distraught lover. 

While he expertly guided the intractable craft closer to the edge of the exosphere with one hand, Marcus reached up and tenderly stroked Leo's silky, salt-and-pepper hair with the other, burying his fingers in the scientist's thick, silver mane where it was gathered loosely at the base of his skull so he could scratch gently at Leo's scalp.

He wanted so badly to whisper that everything was going to be alright – that they'd make it through this – and he might have, if he wasn't all-but-certain that the scientist would find very little consolation in any half-hearted platitude he uttered. They had existed for far too long, and had been through far too much, for Marcus to try and offer Leo false hope in a situation they were both well-aware was perilous. He wasn't about to insult his companion's considerable courage by lying to him to appease his own misgivings. 

What Marcus couldn't countenance was the sad acceptance in Leo's eyes when the archaeologist shifted and turned his mournful, russet-hued gaze upon him. Desperate to erase the forlorn expression from his lover's face and ease his own troubled mind, the warrior cast about for a way to distract them both. At that moment a small light on the instrument panel caught his eye as it lit up, indicating they were in position to begin their descent, and he knew just what to do.

Tendering a reassuring smile, Marcus sent a telepathic command to the Dart. 

“Watch this,” he murmured, and an instant later the opaque canopy which enclosed the cockpit became transparent. As diagnostics and coordinates continued to crawl across the clear forcefield like tiny black insects, the Azurite jewel of Earth suddenly filled their field of vision, spreading out before them in all its emerald-and-cobalt glory. A layer of clouds teased into whirls and streaks by the planet's rotation blanketed the world in a thin, wispy shroud, while its halo of atmosphere shimmered just above the curve of the planet's surface like the blue glow which emanated from an active Ring.

“It's beautiful,” Leo gasped. The scientist's voice was breathless with wonder, and Marcus couldn't help but grin at his lover's unguarded reaction. He knew that the archaeologist spent most of his time hidden in the bowels of the Hive, if he wasn't buried up to his elbows in dirt at a dig. Either too close to appreciate it or too far removed to care, the warrior had long-suspected that Leo had rarely, if ever, had the opportunity to experience the fierce joy of falling toward a planet from space in such a small, maneuverable craft as a Dart – or caught such an intimate glimpse of a newly-conquered world.

Marcus grunted agreement as he engaged the aft thrusters just enough to propel them into the outermost layers of the atmosphere. Even after thousands of years of existence and countless worlds, it was a thrill that never faded.

Leo gazed at the unfamiliar panorama stretched beneath him with something akin to awe. He couldn't remember when he'd last witnessed something like this first-hand, although he had vague recollections of doing so when he was very young, before his excitement had been eclipsed by the import of his research. Over time he'd stopped seeking out the observation deck and grown accustomed to being advised of their arrival at each new destination by the announcements that raced like wildfire along the Hive-wide telepathic network while he'd toiled in his lab. Insulated from all but the most extreme of aerial maneuvers by the sheer size of the Hive ship and protected by its thick hide and impervious shields, he'd barely glanced up from his work, his enthusiasm deadened by the full weight of adult responsibility. Even the transport ships that shuttled he and his fellow scientists to the surface if something interesting was located seldom had viewports, but he'd long since ceased to notice their lack. 

Something in Leo's spirit stirred, and all his delight in this profound-yet-simple pleasure came flooding back, full-blown, in the glare of Earth's yellow sun. Overcome with emotion, even the worrisome bumping and rattling of the Fighter as it penetrated the atmospheric envelope paled to insignificant background noise as he watched the land masses and oceans resolve into greater and greater detail the closer they drew to the planet. 

Lost in the overwhelming sensation of being suspended somewhere between the heavens and terra firma, he didn't notice the gentle, insistent tug on edge of his consciousness. At first it was simply a distraction, like the shaking of the ship, something to slough off and ignore. It wasn't until he started hearing snatches of soft, almost-subliminal vocalizations infiltrating his mind, whispering words he couldn't quite catch, that he realized he'd once more let his barrier down - and someone who'd been seeking him had found him yet again. 

_Haemon._

Low, menacing laughter filtered through the link, confirmed his suspicion at the same moment the archaeologist's body went rigid with shock and dismay. 

“Leo, what's wrong?” Marcus queried, alarm evident in his voice, but the scientist was too immersed in trying to push the unwelcome intruder out of his head to respond. 

_'Yes, Leo – what's wrong?'_ Haemon echoed, his tone dripping with mock sympathy. _'If I didn't know better, I'd think you weren't pleased to hear from me.'_

_'Get out,'_ the scientist growled, desperately bringing his mental faculties to bear on ousting the Wraith who claimed him as Mate from his mind. Unfortunately, the Commander had managed to gain a significant foothold while Leo had been otherwise occupied, and he was having a difficult time of it.

_'Not a chance, my love,'_ Haemon snapped viciously, dropping his concerned facade and revealing the rage bubbling just below the surface. _'You're mine for eternity to do with whatever I please; and as soon as I get my hands on you, I'll remind you of that. You'll never be rid of me.'_

_'I will not go peacefully,'_ Leo drew his lips back from his serrated teeth in a fierce show of defiance as he struggled to free himself from Haemon's vice-like mental embrace. _'I am done with you and your twisted games.'_

The Commander only tightened his grip. _'Ah, my dear – but the games have just begun, and I have you to thank for that. I had forgotten how much I enjoy a good Hunt, although I doubt your warrior will offer much sport. He's far too dull and slow to be a challenge for One of my skills.'_

“No...,” Leo whispered, not realizing he'd spoken aloud - his will to fight beginning to buckle at the same point it always did: when the Third began to threaten Marcus. 

_'Oh, yes,'_ Haemon promised darkly. _'I'm coming for you both.'_

“Leo?” the warrior murmured, his companion's strange behavior bringing a frown of consternation to Marcus' brow. As the scent of the scientist's sudden, inexplicable anger and fear spiked, Leo rolled eyes as wild and hopeless as a trapped animal in his direction, the desolation in their depths telling him all he needed to know.

“Haemon,” Marcus ground out through clenched teeth, his own rage escalating to match his partner's. He wasn't going to stand by and let Leo contend with the Commander alone ever again, not if he could help it. 

He had just reached for the archaeologist's mind, intent on following him onto the battlefield, when new data began streaming across the HUD. A craft of comparable size to theirs had broken off from the swarm buzzing around the Hive and the Ancient City ship to follow their flightpath, gaining on them rapidly. 

_'Is that him?'_ the warrior queried, pointing to the readings. Leo could only nod once before his gaze turned inward again to face his opponent. 

“Damn it,” Marcus snarled, as he reluctantly withdrew from the fringes of his lover’s mind so he could make adjustments to the Dart’s bearings and speed, pushing the vessel as hard as he dared. It tore him up inside that he was forced to leave Leo to his own devices at such a critical juncture, but keeping them in the air – and in one piece - had to take precedence. He couldn’t allow Haemon to get within firing range, and driving the ship so close to its severely-curtailed limits meant he had to monitor it on both the physical and mental plans. Like it or not, the scientist was going to have to fight this battle on his own.

_'See how easily he abandons you to my tender mercies the minute things get a little difficult,'_ Haemon remarked sanctimoniously, shoving his way farther into Leo's head as the scientist desperately looked for a way to escape his tyrannical grasp. _'Just as he always has._

_'He's quite the lover – quite a catch,'_ the Commander continued, his self-satisfied tone now dripping with sarcasm. _'I can understand now why you'd choose a low-ranking warrior of questionable courage and very few prospects over a powerful, prominent Wraith like myself.'_

The fuse on Leo's temper ignited as it did every time Haemon started in on Marcus' perceived character flaws, as incorrect in his assessment of the warrior's shortcomings as ever. The difference was that this time the archaeologist wasn't going to keep quiet about it. The Commander hadn't felt Marcus' strength flood his consciousness as Leo had, or the warrior's resolve to stand by him – or his genuine regret when he'd had to turn his attention to the damaged Dart and leave him to handle Haemon on his own. The scientist had always been secure in the knowledge that Marcus loved him beyond all reason. He knew he hadn't been forsaken, and he'd had more than enough of the other's diatribe. 

Without thinking, Leo rounded on the Third Officer and sprang to his lover's defense. _'You know nothing of Marcus other than what you wish to see – as you have always done. The very qualities which make him a far worthier Wraith than you in every way, you only see as weaknesses.'_

Haemon laughed derisively. _'He is so worthy he scorns Wraith law to steal what is rightfully mine.'_

_'He dares to stand up to unjust Wraith laws in order to save what was rightfully his before you took me from him.'_

_'He is a disposable soldier, barely worthy of guarding a group of scientists on a backwater planet somewhere; nothing but dirt to be shaken from the bottom of my boot,'_ the Commander spat angrily across the open link. _'By our laws I had every right to make you mine regardless of his prior claim. I outrank him and always will.'_

_'And I would choose to labor in obscurity on a backwater planet for the rest of my life, if it meant I could be with him, before I'd willingly stand next to you on the bridge of your own Hive for even a moment,'_ Leo retorted, the last of the restraint which had always kept him from speaking his mind charred to embers by the rage which blazed through him at white heat. _'Rank and privilege count for very little if they are routinely abused.'_

_'How dare you speak to me with such insolence! When we return to the Hive, I will take great pleasure in teaching you your place, once and for all.'_

Leo felt the Commander's fury and outraged disbelief ratchet even higher in equal measures, and knew instinctively that he'd crossed lines he would never be forgiven for. He'd already wounded the Third Officer's considerable pride by defying him, and now he was adding insult to injury by throwing the Wraith's aspirations and achievements back in his face. 

A jolt of exhilaration shot through him at the stunning realization that even if he had a desire to, this tiny taste of freedom and power had effectively destroyed any chance he had of ever fitting back into the role of Haemon's subservient consort. Like a moth emerging from a chrysalis, he'd grown beyond its confines the moment he'd cracked its oppressive husk and made the single, deceptively-simple decision to join his lover in exile. 

Unfortunately, he was also well-aware that by his actions, he'd made a very powerful enemy of a very vengeful Wraith, and was probably better off throwing down the gauntlet and inciting the Commander to kill him outright, rather than face the years of punishment he was certain awaited him if his and Marcus' escape attempt failed. 

Sensing that Haemon was still reeling from his uncharacteristic candor, Leo went on the offensive, using his own pitched emotions to fuel one, desperate, last-ditch effort to expel the Third Officer from his mind.

_'You will not take me back alive,'_ the archaeologist challenged with a snarl, using the other's momentary incredulity as leverage to wrench himself out of the Commander's telepathic stranglehold, heedless of the devastation Haemon left in his wake as he dislodged him. 

_'That can be arranged,'_ came the ominous reply right before Leo finally slammed his barriers back in place. Alone in his head once again, the scientist gasped for breath while his body shook with the after-effects of rage-induced adrenaline, not even able to enjoy his moment of triumph. Never before had he managed to push Haemon out once the Commander had actively breached his walls. 

“Marcus,” he ventured weakly when he'd recovered enough to speak. “He means to kill us both.”

The warrior nodded grimly as he pulled the shivering scientist closer, offering what little support he could. It was as he'd suspected. Leo had crossed the Commander in a way that would all-too-soon be known throughout the entire Hive. In order to save face, Haemon's only course of action was either kill his wayward mate, or take him back and break him. 

Considering how angry the Third Officer was likely to be at this moment, it was to Leo's credit that he seemed to have emerged victorious from whatever transpired between them, although Marcus was concerned that the Commander might have done damage on the way out, if the archaeologist's chattering teeth were anything to go by. Unfortunately, further investigation into the reasons behind his lover's current condition was going to have to wait until they landed.

Tucking away his apprehension with a promise to revisit it when they reached the ground, Marcus tipped the Dart to the steepest angle the ship was able to take, balancing them precariously close to burning up as they streaked through the exosphere. He kept a wary eye on the temperature gauge, watching it rise as the hull heated rapidly from the increased pitch and speed, poised to back off if things started to go critical. 

Just then, the nose of the ship, which had turned a dull red as the atmospheric pressure and friction scoured its skin raw, began to glow yellow and threatened to burst into flames. Marcus reluctantly fired forward thrusters and adjusted their heading to a shallower angle, slowing their decent as little as possible. Once they reached the stratosphere, the drag of atmosphere on the damaged engine-mount was going to hamper their escape even further. This was their only chance to put distance between themselves and their pursuer. 

The warrior's golden eyes flicked to the HUD and noted that Haemon had lost ground since they'd entered the outer fringes of the atmosphere. Encouraged by the fact that the Commander's vessel would be facing the same limitations as theirs, Marcus began to incrementally inch their speed back up when the claxon alarm indicating an incoming missile suddenly blared from the console. The heads-up display changed with the flicker of a thought, showing two Earth jets of indeterminate design heading up toward the upper reaches of the stratosphere to meet them, guns blazing. 

This was the last thing he needed right now. With a snarl of irritation, the warrior tightened his telepathic control of the struggling craft and managed to correct their course enough to dodge the rocket and ignore their bullets, which fell far short of their intended target. 

A blood-thirsty grin split Marcus' face as he initiated the Dart's energy weapon. The Earth Fighters might still be out of range, but he wasn't. As the missile detonated harmlessly behind them, too far away to do anything other than rock the ship slightly, he brought his guns to bear on the planes below. Laying down a line of fire, he made short work of both of them, destroying first one, then the other, in glorious twin fireballs of jet fuel and exploding ordnance. 

Checking long-range sensors, he found no other Fighters in the immediate vicinity, which meant he and Leo had a clear path to Earth. A thrill of excitement lanced through him, and he barely gave Haemon or the battling spaceships a second thought as he pointed the Dart at the planet's surface and made a run for it. 

They had just emerged into the stratosphere, now blessedly clear of opposition, when a subsonic rumble suddenly shook the already-vibrating craft to its core, slowly building toward some sort of unknown, terrible crescendo. Leo had a heartbeat to gasp and instinctively tighten his grip on Marcus' legs just as it peaked, and a pulse of energy the likes of which they'd never encountered before slammed into the Dart's back end, as white light so intense it seared their retinas and blinded them both before the warrior could blank the canopy. At the same instant, it was as if every Wraith aboard their Hive had cried out at once and were as swiftly silenced. 

Savagely repressing his panic, Marcus clung to the archaeologist in total darkness as the ship once again rolled and pitched its way in the general direction of the planet, feeling like his heart had been ripped out of his chest. Not daring to move a muscle until his enhanced healing ability restored his vision, he could do nothing except listen to Leo's ragged sobs as he mourned the massive loss of life they'd both just felt tear through them. 

The first small piece of Hive pinged off the Dart's hull around the same time Marcus could start to pick out details again, and as he squinted up at the HUD, he saw that they were surrounded by debris, large and small, all falling toward the Earth together. After ascertaining which way was up, and that the starboard engine was still - unbelievably - attached and functioning, he quickly regained control of his vessel and concentrated on steering clear of the more sizable chunks, while staying close enough to their concealing bulk not to be noticed for what they were. Numb with grief, he wondered how it was possible for the Lanteans to have destroyed the Hive – and his brethren - so completely. Even though he'd condemned them all as traitors, he'd lived among them all his life, and experiencing their deaths had been a blow from which he would not soon recover. 

“Do you think Haemon could have survived that?” Leo asked in a small, roughened voice, interrupting Marcus' dark musings as he carefully navigated through the field of wreckage.

“I don't know,” he replied softly after a moment's hesitation. “I don't know how we survived it.”

The Dart passed into the atmosphere and the air around them lit up as dust and small particles ignited, leaving the more substantial pieces to plummet toward the surface. The warrior scanned the vessel's display, but the very objects they were using as cover also interfered with his ability to differentiate shrapnel from ship. “If he did, and he's using the debris to hide in as we are, I wouldn't be able to tell.”

Scarcely had the words left his lips when the energy signature of another Wraith Fighter coming to life and cycling up its weapons suddenly flashed on the HUD. In the next instant, a sizzling bolt of plasma hit them from behind and their starboard engine exploded, sending them into an uncontrolled dive. Spiraling contrails of sooty, black smoke poured from the right side of the ship as they spun, nose-first toward a dense forest that spread for miles along the east coast and near the southern tip of the continent they hovered over.

With less than a minute to impact, Marcus cut the power to the port engine and pushed the forward thrusters to maximum, trying to slow the ship's decent, but it was a futile gesture with only a single engine on one wing. They needed the balancing force of two to pull them out of their fatal freefall if they didn't want to come apart in mid-air. 

The HUD continued to spew information, heedless of its imminent demise, alerting them to the presence of two more Earth Fighters, but instead of engaging them, they were ignored in favor of Haemon's Dart. 

“We must look like we're done for if they aren't even bothering with us,” the warrior chuckled with a spark of gallows humor. With no safety features – no parachutes – a Wraith warrior in a situation like this might choose to suicide, taking out as many of the Enemy as he could, but Marcus had Leo to consider, and they had nothing left to lose but their lives. He pulled the archaeologist back against his chest in a tight embrace. “Let's use that to our advantage.”

“What do you mean?” Leo breathed, unable to peel his eyes away from the altimeter as its numbers spun down closer and closer to zero at an alarming rate. 

“Do you trust me?” Marcus whispered suddenly - urgently. He felt the scientist tense in his arms, then relax. 

“Yes.”

As the forest rushed up to meet them the warrior opened the canopy. The wind whistled past them, whipping their hair back and stealing their breath, and Leo couldn't stop the thin cry that rose, unbidden to his lips. In one swift movement Marcus stood and pulled the archaeologist up with him, then tightened his grip and jumped, kicking off as hard as he could to create as much distance as possible between them and the falling Dart. Propelled forward by the powerful muscles in the warrior's legs, for a timeless second it was as if they hung, suspended in space, before they arced downward in a graceful dive. 

Their Fighter hit the ground behind them, exploding just as they fell through the dense canopy of leaves. Marcus curled around Leo, shielding him as best as he could from the explosion and the branches that slashed and tore at their clothes and hair and skin on the way down. 

Bracing for impact, his world narrowed to just holding onto the scientist for dear life until they came to a complete stop. He clung as tightly as he could, but he felt bones snap and limbs give as they tumbled, and then Leo's desperate scrabbling right before he was torn from Marcus' injured arms. 

The warrior knew a moment of blind panic until the back of his head connected with a stout branch, and he knew nothing else for a very long time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this the day after I finished 'The Calm,' which was the end of August. That means it's technically been four months in the making, although it ended up getting put aside, other than a few paragraphs here-and-there, until mid-December. 
> 
> I know it's been a long time coming, but here it is. FINALLY.
> 
> This has actually been rolling around in my head for quite a while - even before I finished Chapter 3. In fact, it was one of the first scenes that came to me when I originally conceived the fic a couple of years ago. I knew where I wanted it to go, but between Marcus trying to bring the Dart under control, Haemon chasing them, and Atlantis and the Hive in the midst of their pivotal battle for Earth, I also knew it was going to be a daunting task to get there. 
> 
> My research included things like aircraft terminology for different gauges and parts, and how volatile jet fuel is. I also researched the atmosphere, what its different layers are called and how deep they are, as well as re-entry into the atmosphere and how that affects a ship. 
> 
> Clocking in at over 5K words, this is the longest chapter I've done so far for this story. It's quite the roller-coaster ride, and I loved every minute of writing it! Enjoy.


	5. Out of the Frying Pan

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marcus discovers that finding Leo is only half the battle.

Smell and hearing were the first of Marcus' senses to awaken before he was really even conscious enough to register either. Only vaguely cognizant of his surroundings, he drifted in and out of awareness as the the acrid, smoky odor of burnt timber and scorched earth assailed his scent receptors, and the soft, sensual hiss of rain-on-leaves caressed his ears. 

Disoriented and confused, he floated in a foggy, grey limbo of scent and sound, until nerve endings came back on-line like someone had flipped a switch. Suddenly he was anchored in a body, cold and shivering in the wetness that cascaded freely over his face and hands, and seeped into his clothes, soaking him to the skin. 

Still trying to make sense of where he was and what had happened, the Wraith's spatial awareness returned a heartbeat later. He realized he was lying flat on his back, exposed to the elements and vulnerable, and pinned to whatever surface he was lying on by weights on his arms, legs, and chest. As his yellow cat's eyes fluttered open, he instinctively turned his head to avoid the fall of icy raindrops on his face, but not before he'd noticed the ghostly-pale trunks of trees, densely-packed and towering over him, and a canopy of leaves high above.

Forest. He was in a forest.

A frown creased his brow as he struggled to recall how he came to be here when memories flooded his conscious mind, and he remembered everything – the mutiny, convincing Leo to come away with him, their flight and Haemon's pursuit, the Hive's destruction - and the crash.

“Leo!” Marcus exclaimed, abruptly sitting up and scattering the drift of broken branches and twigs he'd brought down with him when he'd plummeted to the ground like a cannonball. The warrior scanned the immediate area with wild-eyed intensity as he searched for the other Wraith.

“Leo,” he shouted again, this time with the intention of actually seeking a response. He reached out telepathically as well, attempting to connect with his lover's mind, only to be met with stony silence. Uncertain whether the scientist had locked down the connection for fear of Haemon finding them again, or whether he was lying unconscious – or worse – somewhere, the warrior had no way of knowing. All he could be certain of was that Leo had been torn from his broken arms milliseconds before Marcus had hit his head, and that the archaeologist was now nowhere in sight. 

The Wraith shifted his weight onto one of his hands as he prepared to rise, doing his best to force down the foreboding that made his heart hammer against his ribs, when a jolt of agony shot from his shoulder to his fingertips. Sitting back down with a gasp, he turned his attention to assessing his physical condition. Although regeneration from injuries was usually instantaneous, damage as serious as that which he'd sustained often took longer to heal, so he took a moment to flex each appendage in turn to test its soundness. After a cursory examination he decided everything was more or less in working order, and proclaimed himself fit enough to stand. 

Ignoring the minor twinges of pain that still raced through his swiftly-healing limbs, he rolled to his feet in a single movement, staggering slightly when his boots sank into the saturated, leaf-strewn ground. Quickly regaining his equilibrium, Marcus clambered over the branches littering the forest floor, calling for Leo once more. Then he paused and listened, silent and still and alert on all levels, but the only response he received was the sullen call of a bird hidden somewhere in the sodden treetops, faint and indistinct over the patter of the incessant downpour. 

Heaving a sigh he could see in the chilly air, the warrior glanced around one last time at the trackless, unfamiliar forest before he chose a direction and started off, bringing all his keen, predatory senses to bear.

Pushing his way through the dense underbrush, Marcus began a standard search pattern, scanning for any sign of Leo as he went – a scrap of Wraithskin coat, a lock of hair, a footprint – anything which might indicate the archaeologist was close by. The warrior worked his way slowly outward then back in a starburst using the pile of broken branches as the pivot point. Looking for clues as he traversed each ‘spoke’ of the wheel, he stopped every once in a while to call the archaeologist's name and seek out his mind, but to no avail. Although he doggedly pushed on in spite of his growing anxiety and the despair he viciously held at bay, it was as if Leo had vanished.

Marcus put his hand out to steady himself against the nearest grey-and-white trunk as a surge of apprehension broke loose from its prison and washed over him. While he'd been beating the bushes, the day, overcast already, had begun to grow darker. He could only assume it was nearing sunset, and he knew that with the loss of daylight, his chances of finding Leo went from slim to nil. Although he was fully capable of continuing his search after nightfall, even for one such as him, it would a more difficult task once the sun went down, especially since he wasn't receiving any kind of feedback from the other Wraith – not even the static of an active mind. If Leo was incapacitated, as Marcus suspected he was, finding him in the dark was going to be next to impossible.

_All the more reason to find him before then._ The warrior pushed away from the tree with a growl, fighting the lassitude of despair which threatened to immobilize him. Bemoaning the difficulty of the situation they found themselves in wasn't going to help either one of them.

Steeling himself to keep at it – all night, if necessary, Marcus resumed his search with a renewed sense of purpose and urgency. He passed the pyre of kindling again as he headed in a new direction, and had scarcely gone three meters along his chosen path when he caught the almost-subliminal scent of fresh blood lingering beneath the stronger notes of charred wood and decaying leaves.

He froze and sniffed the air like the Hunter he was, spiracles flared wide as he inhaled deeply. There it was again – faint, practically non-existent after being diluted by the interminable rain, but distinct and real, nonetheless - and just ahead. A potent blend of fear and anticipation sent a rush of adrenaline through the Wraith's system as his gaze swept the forest floor from left to right and back again, his vision suddenly preternaturally sharp. He had only moved a few cautious steps forward when he caught sight of something dark oozing like sap down the length of a nearby tree, the black streak standing out in sharp contrast against the smooth, pale bark. 

The warrior stepped closer and the scent of Wraith blood hit his scent receptors full-force. Tensing, his gaze followed the trail up the trunk until it finally rested on the crumpled form of the archaeologist caught in a tangle of branches about five meters above his head. Sprawled across the latticework of twigs like he’d been tossed there by an uncaring hand, Leo lay silent and unmoving while the nest of twisted tree limbs swayed gently in the breeze. Other than some slashes and tears in his Wraithskin garments and the disarray of his silver hair, plastered across his face in sinuous, damp strands, Leo looked like he was resting peacefully: serene and unblemished except for the end of the broken branch protruding from his chest. Driven through him just below the clavicle by the momentum of his fall, black blood dripped from the wound that kept trying unsuccessfully to close around the stake that still impaled it, running down the interlaced twigs in languid, measured drops. 

A strangled snarl forced its way past Marcus' lips as the horror of the archaeologist's plight sank in, echoing through the densely-overgrown woodlands like a gunshot. It grew more distorted and strange as it bounced from tree-to-tree, a dissonant chorus of alarm that only added to the already-nightmarish quality of the scene, and a frisson of foreboding shivered its way down the warrior's spine. 

Savagely suppressing the fear whispering in the back of his mind, telling him that he might already be too late, Marcus shook off the paralysis that shock and dread had forced upon him, and frantically searched for a way to reach his mutilated companion. Once he located a pathway among the branches, he quickly undid the buckles of the weapons holsters that criss-crossed his body and opened the fastenings of his Wraithskin coat. Freeing himself from the impediment of the restrictive straps and the weight of the heavy leather garment, the warrior left both in a heap on the ground and swung himself up into a nearby tree with a low fork. Clad only in his standard-issue pants and boots, a sleeveless black shirt, and a minimal arsenal of sidearm and belt knife, he practically flew through the trees as he climbed from limb-to-limb, desperate to get to Leo as swiftly as possible. 

After crossing a distance that seemed to stretch to infinity for what felt like forever, Marcus finally drew abreast of the unmoving Wraith, so close that he could reach out and touch him if he so desired. Wanting nothing more, yet fearing what he might discover once he did, the warrior paused to gather his courage. Settling himself below and a little in front of the the other Wraith, Marcus wrapped his leg around the branch he was straddling, anchoring himself as best he could. He took a moment to tie his dreadlocks back before he leaned out and brushed Leo's wet hair away from his face with gentle, careful movements. The archaeologist's skin was cool and clammy to the touch, and he gave off very little by way of a heat signature, but that wasn't saying much. After an indeterminate amount of time in the cold, rainy forest, the warrior was in very similar shape. 

Sliding his hand down Leo's prominent cheekbone and over his jaw, Marcus worked the top catch of the scientist's jacket open. He hesitantly rested his fingers against the pulse-point on the other’s neck, the stillness he felt there causing his own heart to skip a beat.

“C’mon, Leo, you can do it,” he whispered urgently as he pressed a little harder, willing the scientist’s body to live, his blood to pump. Marcus wasn’t about to give up yet - not after they'd come so far, and been through so much to be together. Fighting down a swell of panic, the warrior closed his golden cat's eyes, the better to sense by touch alone, and focused all his energy on determining whether his lover’s heart still beat. A crease of intense concentration marred his smooth brow as he shifted his fingers from place-to-place along the artery, hoping against hope as the seconds ticked by with no results, until finally... _There!_ Faint; thready. The Wraith's pulse was barely-discernible, but Leo was alive!

Exhaling a sigh of relief that sounded suspiciously like a sob, Marcus withdrew his hand from under Leo’s collar so he could extricate the scientist from the jumble of branches that had snared him. He reached out to begin the tricky process of freeing him, when he got his first good look at the extent of his lover’s injury and his fingers stilled before he’d even snapped the first twig. Blood seeped out of the rent in Leo’s jacket in a sluggish, steady stream, coating the jagged end of the stick and saturating the Wraithskin, while tiny bubbles fomented at the juncture of stake and leather with each of the archaeologist’s impossibly shallow breaths, indicating a punctured lung. Removing the object was going to have to wait until they reached the ground, but there was only one way to get Leo there without killing him in the process. 

Fumbling for the scientist’s coat through the framework of loosely-interwoven branches, Marcus unlatched another fastening. Careful not to jostle the piece of wood embedded in Leo’s chest, he worked the Wraithskin open to reveal the hollow of the archeologist’s throat and an expanse of creamy, pale-blue flesh, now covered with ichor. Without a moment's hesitation he pressed his feeding hand to Leo's sternum, the teeth lining the warrior's maw barely pricking his lover's clammy skin before he pushed life force through the connection in a slow, steady stream. 

Over the interminable years of their separation, many were the times that Marcus had fantasized about sharing the Gift of Life with the archaeologist, of the erotic give-and-take they'd indulged in during their brief interlude before Haemon had entered the picture. Many were the times he'd hoped for the opportunity to do so again, in imagined scenarios at once sensual and sublime. Never in his wildest dreams had he envisioned it occurring cradled in the boughs of an alien tree in a desperate bid to keep Leo from expiring. 

The surge of energy seemed to strengthen the scientist, who stirred a moment later. A groan issued from the back of Leo's throat as he struggled his way back to consciousness, his face contorting when the pain hit. Copper-colored eyes flew open and his body tensed instinctively as he focused on the ground below. 

His gaze shifted to the hand pressed to his chest, then followed the arm it was attached to until he reached Marcus' worried features. 

_'What... happened?'_ Their eyes met through the open basketweave of twigs that separated them.

_'You were injured in the fall. The pain you're experiencing is from a broken tree limb that is still in your chest. We'll have to get you to the ground before I can remove it.'_

Leo nodded in understanding and as Marcus watched, the archaeologist sagged against the branches, his trust in the warrior's ability to rescue him complete and absolute.

Reluctantly pulling his hand back from his lover's chest, Marcus reached to free his comrade, hoping, not for the first time since they'd begun this ill-conceived endeavor, that Leo's unstinting faith in him hadn't been misplaced. After several long minutes of carefully snapping off enough branches to open a hole big enough to get Leo through without sending the scientist plummeting to the forest floor, Marcus began the slow, laborious processing of trying to inch him out. He managed to bring Leo to the edge of the opening when the archaeologist rallied as the influx of life force energized him, and in spite of his right arm hanging, all but useless, the silver-haired scientist emerged from the nest like an insect from a chrysalis with only minimal assistance. Clinging to Marcus' outstretched arm for support, he bridged the gap between their respective perches and scrambled onto the other's back, wrapping his long legs around the warrior's hips and his left arm tightly across Marcus' broad, strong chest. 

_'Ready?'_ Marcus asked across their link, the other's ragged wheezing and suppressed noises of discomfort letting him know just what the flurry of activity had cost the injured scientist. 

“Yes,” Leo replied aloud, his response coming out in a pained hiss, and the warrior could sense that the strength he'd lent the archaeologist was already fading. 

With cautious steps, Marcus worked his way back the way he'd come, testing each branch as he descended. It made for slow going, but at nearly double the weight he'd subjected them to on the way up, the last thing he needed was for one of them to break unexpectedly. Torn between his desire to descend as quickly as possible and the need to move carefully, it was the warm stickiness of blood seeping through the thin fabric of his shirt that finally made the decision for him. Leo needed to heal, and soon.

_'Hang on,'_ he warned, sending a quick burst of information across the mental link along with the alert to let the scientist know what he planned. Leo barely had time to tighten his grip before Marcus gathered himself and jumped the rest of the way to the ground. Although he landed as lightly has he could, letting the tensile power coiled in his muscular thighs take as much of the shock as possible, the impact pulled an involuntary shout of pain from the Wraith on his back. 

Without rising from his crouch, the warrior dipped his shoulder and reached to help his companion slide to the ground. Leo rolled onto his back with a grunt, his movement forcing the rough-hewn stake to shift within the wound. His respiration immediately grew shallow and harsh as his lung began filling with blood, each breath more labored than the one before it. 

Frightened russet cat's eyes met gold as Marcus knelt over him. _'Do it. Quickly,'_ he begged telepathically, beyond verbal communication. 

The warrior nodded. Resting a knee on the damp leaves to give himself the leverage he needed, Marcus laid his feeding hand against Leo's chest again and grasped the end of the branch with his other. In a single, swift movement, he wrenched the stake from the archaeologist's breast at the same instant he pressed maw to skin and pushed life force into his lover's body. Leo arched beneath him as agony and ecstasy tore through him in equal measure, and the scientist cried out with the intensity of the twin sensations. 

After the massive amount of regeneration his own body had had to endure, Marcus had very little energy left to give away, but that didn't stop him from pouring it into his writhing paramour. He cast aside the sharpened stick with a grimace of disgust, then turned his attention to feeding the archaeologist until the pain cascading across the link faded, leaving only pleasure, and the gaping, bubbling wound finally closed. Pretending not to notice the first faint stirrings of hunger, the warrior pulled his hand back and sat heavily on the ground, his own chest heaving as he watched Leo's breathing ease and the color return to his cheeks. 

The archaeologist's eyes fluttered open a few minutes later, and before Marcus could stop him, he'd struggled into a sitting position. “You need to rest,” the warrior rasped, too weary to do more than frown.

“Ha.” Leo snorted softly as he extended a shaky hand to gently cup his partner's cheek. “We both need to rest. You gave too much.”

Marcus offered him an intimate smile. “I'd give it all if you needed it.”

Leo's eyes widened and his cheeks burned grey, and the warrior marveled that his companion had enough blood circulating in his system to blush at all. 

“I know,” the scientist replied, his voice barely a whisper, his eyes suddenly bent on studying the ground. Casting about for a quick change of subject, Leo let his gaze travel over the isolated landscape – the trees, the overcast sky, the smoke drifting by at intervals in wispy clouds. “Where are we?”

Marcus' tender smile widened as he gathered the other Wraith in his arms. “Does it matter?” he murmured triumphantly as a surge of emotion welled up, threatening to close his throat. “We made it! We're on Earth.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hot off the presses! This chapter worked up relatively quickly since it was another one of those clear, sharp images that came to me when I was first inspired to write it. I really like this story, and the original characters and what they have to say about Wraith society, and I'm enjoying the challenge of bringing it to life in a plausible and believable manner. 
> 
> The story is set in Australia, which I don't have any knowledge of other than what I've been able to glean from the internet, and this time around I did some research on eucalyptus forests. I suspect I'll be learning alot about this strange and beautiful continent before this fic is done. :)

**Author's Note:**

> Even as I worked on Best Laid Plans, I always imagined that there were other Wraith who made it to Earth in the wake of the battle with the superhive besides Todd. These two characters were actually the first ones who showed up, and as I started to think about what might bring a scientist and a warrior together, their story began unfolding in my head, and I knew I had to write it when I got the chance.
> 
> Two years later, I finally have that chance.
> 
> **Transformative works policy: Please check with me before playing in my universe. I'm relatively easy-going but I _am_ more protective of certain aspects of my stories and characters than others, so please ask for permission first.**


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